<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Memories, So Soon Remembered by TransTroubadour</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659357">The Memories, So Soon Remembered</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransTroubadour/pseuds/TransTroubadour'>TransTroubadour</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Laszlo the Tailor [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mechanisms (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Arguing, Autistic Character, Carmilla is a mom, Carmilla loves her mechanisms and i stand by that, Cleaning, Crying, Cuddling, Dancing, Disabled Character, Flashbacks, Fluff, Genderfluid Gunpowder Tim (The Mechanisms), Gift Giving, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Invasion of Privacy, Kissing, Laszlo is a sad theatre kid, Laszlo the Tailor - Freeform, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Moon War, Music, Mythology References, Nail Polish, Neurodivergent Jonny d’Ville, Other, Poetry, Pomegranates, Psychoanalysis, Sewing, Sharing Clothes, Silk - Freeform, Slow Dancing, Snooping, Soft Jonny d'Ville, Studying, Tailoring, Tea, Waltzing, Waltzing Alone, War Songs, Writing, Yelling, a reminder brian is like 7-8 feet tall, all the mechs are nd, as in memories, joint pain, laughing, okay maybe not entirely, strong believer brian can cry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:20:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransTroubadour/pseuds/TransTroubadour</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny and Brian have to cope that Laszlo is gone.  Here are vignettes of their memories of them placed delicately in a plot.  Jonny sees them everywhere he turns, and is reminded of their scent long after they leave his sheets, Brian is reminded of them every time he sees a hole needing patching, or a hand needing holding.  On top of all this, Carmilla is back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bertie/Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim, Drumbot Brian &amp; Jonny d'Ville, Drumbot Brian/Jonny d'Ville, Drumbot Brian/Original Character, Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim, Jonny d'Ville/Original Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Laszlo the Tailor [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Where Did They Go? Why Did They Leave?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay so there is a lot of yelling and crying and arguing at the beginning, but later becomes fluffy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The gig ended, and Laszlo was not in the leaving audience.  Turning to Brian, he asked, “Why isn’t Laszlo back yet?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The DrumBot shrugged in response while he coiled up a cable, “They probably just went back to the ship with the supplies, they’re probably just tired.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny pouted at, but continued helping pack up and then followed as they all went back to the ship.  When he entered, Laszlo was not waiting for him like they normally do, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’re probably asleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, and if that thought made him a little happy, that he could curl up into bed with them, no one needed to know.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So he sauntered back to his room, and quietly opened the door to find it empty.  A pit began to form in his stomach, as he surveyed his unmade sheets, revealing the bare mattress.  He closed the door behind him as he ran to the Tailor’s Room.  Looking around there wasn’t any trace of them or any of the supplies they bought.  Racing back to the common room, he felt the ship take off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, no no nononono, no come on where are they?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sprinted to the bridge, and grabbed the back of the pilots chair, Brian couldn’t look back at him, since he was directly piloting, but addressed him, “Is everything alright, love?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tears pricked Jonny’s eyes, “No, no I can’t find Laszlo anywhere,” he choked out. He rested his head against Brian’s shoulder as he swallowed thickly.  He didn’t notice the way Brian’s hands clasped the controls harder than needed, or the way he gritted his teeth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I, I don’t,” Brian stopped abruptly, and Jonny looked up just enough to see Brian’s switch was flipped, and now was unable to lie.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you know, Brian,” he demanded sternly, but was betrayed by the way his voice cracked, “Where’s Laszlo.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian removed a hand from the controls, and moved to gesture towards the quickly disappearing ground, “They didn’t return to the ship.  They’re still down there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny blew up, “WHAT,” he pushed off of Brian and circled around to face him, “What do you mean they’re still down there!?” He screeched.  Brian just looked at him for a moment, silent.  They locked eyes as tears fell.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Brian, why did you leave them,” Jonny yelled, unable to comprehend why he would betray the both of them, both of his loves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jonny,” he could hear the breaking anguish in Brian’s voice, but it did not calm the tempest in his heart, “they’re mortal, they can’t stay with us.  Carmilla will be back any day now, and we both know we can’t condemn them to this life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny knew better than anyone else this was not a life to live, but it was more bearable, even enjoyable when Laszlo was around, was with the two of them.  So he just let his arms fall to his side as they sobbed at one another, he knew Brian was right, and he couldn’t take it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He just walked away.  He walked past Ashes and Ivy, who stared at his reddened eyes and smeared makeup.  He walked past Nastya, and did not answer his sister’s questions when she asked what had happened.  He walked away from Brian, and left Laszlo, his love, behind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny got to his room eventually.  He stopped in front of it,</span>
  <em>
    <span> this is where Laszlo should be</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought,</span>
  <em>
    <span> we slept together every night.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thrust the door open, and slammed it behind him as he entered the room, and dug into his bed in anguish.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Laszlo was gone, and they weren’t coming back. </span>
  </em>
  <span> He took off his boots and curled under the covers, wanting to sleep this feeling away.  Tears streamed down his faces as the familiar scent of them filled his head with memories.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Laying here, in bed with Laszlo was even better than Jonny could’ve dreamed.  Their head laid on this chest and their arm slung over his waist, while they slept peacefully next to their loves.  Brian spooned them, arm wrapped lightly around and cradled their small body perfectly.  It was perfect.  Jonny, in any other instance, would’ve been overwhelmed with emotions, but looking at the way their face was slack with slumber, he felt at peace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Laszlo was such a curious person.  Jonny would never understand how they enjoyed the tick of his heart, how they would honestly claim to love the faint sound, to say that</span>
  <em>
    <span> any heartbeat of yours is a score of your love for us</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Jonny remembered crying at that, before pulling them into a long embrace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Laszlo also slept shirtless.  They said that the way fabric bunched around them as they slept was uncomfortable, and neither Jonny nor Brian complained.  In fact, Jonny loved seeing their back laid bare.  In the low lighting of the stars, he could faintly see the freckles that trail down their back, the risen plain of muscles from years of work, though what work he did not know.  Tailoring, in his experience, was not a physically demanding job, but nonetheless he placed a hand on the muscles, feeling them move as Laszlo shifted slightly in their sleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He rubbed their shoulders, never lightly as he knew just how much they despised feather light touches, remembered how much it hurt when they first recoiled from his touch without warning.  But they assured him he is not a monster, that they love him so, but their nerves quite dislike that kind of feeling, and now he would more than happily refrain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He unashamedly stared at his lovers, their embrace of one another was warm and tender, nothing like how he spent his first few centuries of immortality, but he didn’t want to think about that now.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Making sure not to disturb the quiet rest, he slid down a little further into bed, looked at the two of them, then closed his eyes and let sleep take him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Trying and Failing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jonny awakes to a familiar sound, and finds a familiar face, just not the one he had hoped.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I stand by the fact Carmilla wanted to be a good mom to her children.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jonny awoke to a sound, a very familiar sound from behind his door.  He heard the faint click, click, click, of cane on the floor.  He shot up from his bed and opened the door with wild abandon as he practically slid into the hall.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jonny, you seem excited for me to be back, I didn’t think you’d wake until noon,” Carmilla stated, clearly amused by his wild hair and smeared makeup.  Then she raised an eyebrow, and Jonny realized his face had fallen into a frown strong enough to compare to the Mask Of Tragedy.  She surveyed him, “Or is there something else on your mind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny was not about to tell her that a week ago he had lost the love of his impossibly long life because Brian thought it was for the best.  He was not about to tell her that he had been avoiding Brian for a week out of anger and sadness.  He was not about to tell her that he had fallen in love with a mortal, that he will mourn for the rest of time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jonny what is it,” she walks over to him and rests a hand on his shoulder, and guides him to a room with a couch.  She sits him down and sits next to him, “What happened while I was gone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny paused, “Brian and I got in a stupid fight and I’ve been avoiding him,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>and I’m also still in love with the fucker</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He looked up and met her sympathetic eyes, as she rubbed his back in comfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have noticed he’s been colder since I got back.  I’ve barely gotten a word out of him,” she mentioned.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.   Jonny knew Brian was also upset over what happened, but the only time he’d gone completely silent was when he was first getting over immortality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, and drew his eyes back to his fidgeting hands, picking at the chipped nail polish, “I’m also not in the mood to talk right now, I might just go back to sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carmilla must’ve noticed his nails, and tried, “How about instead of you disappearing for another week, you get dressed and we meet in the common room and you, me, Ashes, Ivy, and Nastya can repaint nails and you all can fill me in on what else has happened.”  Jonny didn’t necessarily like that idea, but he didn’t hate it and she was correct, he did plan on disappearing to wallow for another week.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’ll meet you at the common room in ten minutes,” she smiled at that, and with a gentle clasp on his back, left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny did actually hold up his promise, and came into the common room to find Ashes, Ivy, Nastya, and Carmilla talking, mostly friendly.  Carmilla seemed to hold no grudge for being pushed out the airlock.  Instead, she patted the sofa cushion next to her, and he sat down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone had picked their colors, and Nasty handed him two bottles, a wine red and black.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Laszlo used to wear these</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He took them and set them aside, and chose to pick at the cracked polish on his nails until they were clean.  A worn hand grabbed his and stopped him, and started to remove it with acetone, “I don’t know how you still have nails Jonny,” Carmilla scoffed playfully before looking up at the group, “So what have you been doing since I was gone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any chatter was silenced, before Ivy spoke, “We visited a few planets, picked up some supplies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carmilla smiled at that, “Does that have anything to do with the new Tailor’s room?  I’d say Jonny you’ve made quite the improvement in your sewing skills.”  Jonny pursed his lips at that, looking down at his hands before nodding, “Thanks.”  He knew he couldn’t trick her, but he hoped she would leave well enough alone, but hope never got Jonny anywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay what’s happening, what really happened while I was away?”  She raised an eyebrow and looked at Ashes, who sighed before looking pitifully at Jonny, “We visited a planet and Brian brought back a human tailor.  He and Jonny got… attached.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carmilla tutted, before putting on a softer expression and wrapping an arm around him, rubbing his arm, “You know better than that, Jonny.  Is this why you and Brian fought?”  She felt him nod weakly against her, “Come on, let’s finish painting our nails and then we can talk about this privately.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Little Moments On The Bridge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Laszlo and Brian hang out on the bridge, and Laszlo studies him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THEY ARE IN LOVE.  The beginning is angsty, but the rest is fluff, like, tooth rotting fluff.  Laszlo talks about joint pain, but more of the side effects of it not the actual pain.  I don't know if other people with joint pain have this but I do and its my fic I do what I want.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brian just sat there, head in hands.  Aurora could pilot herself for now, and understood he needed his time.  He cursed Carmilla for giving him tear ducts, it was cruel for him to be allowed to cry unto brass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking his face from his hands he saw the tears flow through the cracks between his fingers, starting to pull the orange to yellow to teal, he’d have to ask Nastya to replace them later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked up and saw himself reflected on the glass that held him from stars, his image imprinted onto the cold twilight of space.  His face threatened to hold the same erosion as his hands, yellow streaked into the cracks in his face, and teal bubbled between them.  He didn’t care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leaning back in his chair he instinctively grabbed towards nothing, and realized he expected Laszlo to be in arms reach.  He whimpered at that, remembering how they would spend hours with him here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laying across his lap, Laszlo would sit for however long they’d like, hand and needle working thread through cloth.  They really did keep up their work as a tailor, constantly sewing or patching anything at any time.  They stopped for a minute, and Brian could feel them look up at his face, he looked back down at them and saw them set their sewing supplies on the ground near his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, love,” he murmured quietly.  They crawled into a sitting position and rested their head against his lower chest, nuzzling his hair slightly, “Hello.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D’ya need anything?” He questioned, a little entertained by their catlike attitude toward affection.  They shook their head, but moved to look at one of his elbows, placing their hands on it and moving his forearm up and down.  Again, “Are you sure you don’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made a small hum, “Just want to study your joints,” they replied.  Then they repeated the action, moving his arm with one hand and feeling how the socket in his elbow moved.  Brian was a little worried their hand was going to get crushed by his circuitry, but let them.  Delicate hands brushed against his skin, and gently pried between his joints to look at the wires, “Does this hurt?” Brian shook his head no, and they went back to prodding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let his mind wander as they did so, why were they so fascinated with his joints?  Theirs don’t work so well, perhaps they are curious about how normal ones do, well as normal as brass can get I suppose.  He was snapped out of his thoughts as Laszlo pushed his forearm to meet his bicep, and it made a small clicking noise, and they smiled contentedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We match,” they said.  Brian didn’t know what they meant, and they further explained, “When I do that, my right elbow clicks in and out of place, though mine doesn’t really make a sound.”  Curious, he lightly grabbed their elbow and they gladly demonstrated, moving it back and forth, and low and behold, it clicked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” they shift in his lap, knees askew to his legs as they try to meet his face, sadly to no avail.  He craned his neck down to meet theirs, and gaze at their lips, “Do you know just how much I love you?” he whispered just loud enough to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I do, I think about this much,” they placed their hand over his heart and leaned close into a kiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A knock at the door swept him out of his thoughts, and he is reminded he is cold and alone.  Another knock at the door, “Can we come in?” he hears Carmilla ask through the door.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Holding Your Laugh To My Chest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carmilla asks Brian and Jonny what Laszlo was like.  A memory stirs.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content warnings: carmilla invades some of laszlo's privacy and doesn't really care, and in this memory there is brief mention of roadkill as a part of a joke</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Yes, yeah you can come in,”  He calls, slightly bitter to be interrupted in his wallowing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door slid open and Carmilla walked in, with Jonny tentatively following, and then they locked eyes, the two of them.  Jonny looked guilty, but there was a spark of passion in his eyes, fury he had not lost in weeks past, and Brian wanted to curl into himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have a lot to talk about,” Carmilla spoke to both of them, “A mortal, really?  Brian, Jonny, are they still out there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brian sucked in a quick breath, “No, no I watched them die.  Their corpse, it uh, it was destroyed,” he said, hoping it would turn her off mechanization.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She made a hm noise, and then she sat down in the barely used co-pilot's, “Tell me about them, would I like them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Jonny made a feeble noise, “yeah, they reminded me of you a little actually.  They also used a cane, that’s why I rushed out of the hall when you first came back.  I thought it was them.  But besides that they were so lovely, really talented too, obviously, ‘cause they were a tailor, but they also drew and wrote.  Wanted them to help work on music, but they didn’t think it was a good idea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That got Carmilla’s attention, and she started to dig through her vest, and pulled out a small red leather red book, “Yes, I found this in the Tailor’s room.  You’re right Jonny, they were a good writer, same there isn’t more of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That struck a sour note with Brian, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she had read their writing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Brian took a breath, “We only got to read two bits of it, they really didn’t want anyone reading it, said it was personal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carmilla laughed at that, “It is personal, that’s what makes it so good.  It’s practically a diary, just… prettier.  If they really did love you I can tell most of it is about you two, every little moment shared, no thought is spared in here, I just know nothing about them themself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brian watched as Jonny grimaced, so Brian continued talking, “That’s good to know, I guess.  But yeah, Jonny’s right they really were spectacular, very loving, they had such a great laugh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny had been lying against Laszlo.  Slumped in their lap cozily he sat and listened to the hum of conversation in the common room.  He couldn’t tell you what it was about, but could tell who was talking.  Their hands ran through his hair, fingernails gently scraping his scalp mindlessly as they talked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Jonny felt it.  Laszlo laughed, and he realized they hadn’t laughed before.  He fell in love all over again, feeling their chest reverb as the best laugh rang out, warm and full of life.  If his heart could skip a beat it would’ve, and he curled closer to them as they continued to express their joy.   It died down slightly, and he felt them shift to look down at him, and it turned into a contented hum.  Jonny just felt so loved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone was in the common room.  Jonny was laying on Laszlo sleepily as they continued the conversation.  Brian looked over at them as they made a point about on their planet roadkill was very common and it often looked like a thorn bush of blood and skin, and Ivy responded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heh, like Ferdiad after the Gáe Buld,” she commented quietly, to no one in particular.  But Laszlo heard it, and started cackling.  They laughed so openly and deeply that Brian could see Jonny’s eyes widen in surprise as his head was quickly moved by the rise and fall of their chest.  He saw how a blush rose up his face as Laszlo’s laughter continued.  It was just so genuine, like nothing Brian had ever heard before, and he swore to himself he would get to hear it again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Relax, Lay Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Laszlo and Jonny make Brian a waistcoat but he's 8 feet and so it's difficult.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>no content warnings!! have some fluff and then a little bit of angst at the end</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was endearing, walking into the Tailor’s Room.  All the lines of drawings and designs strung up across the ceiling next to hanging lights.  It was a dimly lit room, just light enough to see everything, but not bright enough to hurt their eyes.  A small couch, practically a loveseat, sat in the back behind a long, short table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny scanned over the room, and saw Laszlo, kneeling utop the tall cutting table trying to reach Brian’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love I can just sit if it’ll be easier,” Brian said with a smile, clearly amused.  They swatted his arm lightly and flapped their hands, “No, no I can get it, you’re just so fucking tall.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t your knees tired?” Jonny asked, sauntering into the room, “I don’t know how long you’ve been trying to be as tall as Brian but it’s not going to work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laszlo sighed and sat back on their calves, long skirt covering their entire legs, “Yeah, they are.”  Jonny stood in front of the table and scooped them into his arms, and then sat down on the loveseat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t Brian just sit while you measure him?” He asked gently.  Laszlo pouted, “Because the bend at the waist is going to ruin the bottom of the waistcoat!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we just measure his shoulders and chest sitting and then measure his waist standing?”  Realization dawned across their face, and then they looked sheepish, a why-didn’t-i-think-of-that face, “Yeah that’ll work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny took them off his lap and placed them on the cushions, and then stood up as Brian sat on the floor.  Jonny got the measuring tape and started measuring his shoulders and chest.  Laszlo tried to get up and he gestured for them to stay down, “It’s fine I’ll measure him, just relax for a minute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laszlo reached forward and ran their fingers through Brian’s hair, and started to braid it as a stim.  Brian leaned into it, and started humming, and then his two lovers joined.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once all the measurements were recorded,  the three of them all laid on the loveseat.  What this really entailed was Brian sitting against the side while Jonny and Laszlo sat in his arms.  It was comfortable, as Laszlo kept the room slightly warm, cozy even.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brian laid in the empty room, on the loveseat in the back.  It was cool, cold even and dust collected on the tables and surfaces from disuse.  No warmth laid upon his chest, no hands running through his copper curls, no playful bickering about what pattern they should use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Memories In Song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Laszlo often listens to music from their home planet, it's sad.  Jonny does not wish to stop them, but to make them feel okay.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is me 100% projecting my sad old-people pastimes.  This could be read as Laszlo disassociating but they really aren't it's just a little vague.</p><p>First song is Tango Dancer from Ghost Quartet and the second is Only Remembered from War Horse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There were days Jonny didn’t know how to handle.  Brian could, he knew, but Brian was up on the bridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes Laszlo would get like this, distant, eyes almost glassy.  He would walk into the kitchen to find them sitting on the counter, music playing faintly as they hummed.  He always remembered the lyrics to the songs, they were haunting and sad.  Today was one of those days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He came into the common room, and heard the light stringed notes of an old instrument, then an even lighter voice from one of their records come from the kitchen,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have a lot of memories,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I have a lot of sadness,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But the two don’t line up,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No the two don’t line up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I used to run through the sand,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Campfire stars in the distance,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I’d gaze into the darkness,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And wonder about the void,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he would hear even fainter singing, a trembling voice following along on the edge of tears,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was empty then,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I’m empty now,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But it’s not the same at all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lyrics continued without their voice, lilting instrumentation accompanied the sad voice of the record.  Of course when the song had finished Jonny would enter, embracing and letting them exist in that space, between his arms, in the kitchen, on the starship Aurora.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Other days it was different, still days like these, but more active in Laszlo’s participation.  Jonny would find them, eyes closed, waltzing all alone to songs he thought they must know well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Faded away like the stars in the morning,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Losing their light in the glorious sun,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thus would we pass from this earth and its toiling,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They would always falter at that line, face contorting ever lightly into a sadness that seemed almost natural, like they had relaxed into the expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered, only remembered,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done;</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thus would we pass from this earth and its toiling,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then their hands would come down from where they once rested on some invisible man, and they would open their eyes, gazing into some distance as though it were their last moment alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny would then walk in, turn off the music, and quietly wrapped his arms around them from the back, laying his head against their shoulder, and waiting for them to come out of themself.  Sometimes it took a little bit, sometimes they just needed a moment, either way Jonny would stay with them for as long as they needed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted to ask why those songs, of all songs.  Melancholy, old, and tired, as if they lived a world unimaginable and had lost it to life.  Jonny wasn’t a fool, he listened to the songs, tried to study them, and all of them were so quiet in their distress, and he could only wish Laszlo did not always feel the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even Jonny knew that feeling, and he could only hope Laszlo knew they weren’t alone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Silent Work</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Laszlo has been carrying around a notebook and doesn't let anyone read what's inside.  And then two pages fall out, and Jonny and Brian are enraptured.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>remember the book i mentioned in chapter 4????? yeah here are the pages they get to read.  the writing is actually just my own original work but i thought it fit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brian noticed something new.  It wasn’t particularly strange, but Laszlo started carrying around a notebook.  It was small, a red leather cover binding hand pressed sheets of cream colored paper.  The way their hand moved with their pen seemed to indicate they weren’t sketching designs or patterns, but were writing.  Occasionally there was drawing yes, but every time Brian tried to peer over their shoulder they would hunch over to cover it, eventually he stopped trying to read it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny also happened to notice, and was not so easily swayed.  He would lay besides them as they wrote, and would slowly climb into their lap, before trying to pry the book from their hand.  Laszlo was not an angry or violent person by any means, but whenever they got fed up they would shut the book quite aggressively, catching Jonny’s hand if he wasn’t quick enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Let it be known that despite what Ivy thought, Jonny could read.  Carmilla wanted a scribe for her projects, so she taught him how to read and write to be much better than what he learned on New Texas, and could faithfully read back his and Carmilla’s notes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had hundreds, thousands of years to read through Ivy’s library, and simply chose not to.  But this book interested him, for Laszlo is writing in it and he wants to know what their brilliant mind could come up with, but his tries were all in vain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until today.  He had watched them check their watch before hazardously jumping up from their place on the couch, earning a wince from them, before rushing in the direction of the Tailor’s Room.  Papers flew unnoticed out of their notebook as they passed Brian, and when they were out of view, Brian picked them up.  He started to turn towards the direction they ran off to, before Jonny ran over and caught his arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gimme,” he said, “I’ve been wanting to read their notes for so long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First off, it's been two weeks which even for a mortal is not long.  Secondly, they’ve made it very clear they don’t want us reading whatever is in their notebook, let’s just give the pages back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny sighed and pouted, “Give me the notes and you don’t have to read them,” he said.  This earned him a Look from Brian, but he could tell he was just as curious, “I’ll even bring them back to our room to read them in private.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brian made no comment, but followed him back to their room.  Once behind closed doors, Jonny unfolded the paper and read them silently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brian noticed as Jonny’s grip tightened ever so slightly on the pages as he shuffled them to read the next, and the way his shoulders had risen as though he were an archeologist uncovering an ancient text.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Breathless, would describe Jonny’s next words, “Wow.  I just, wow.”  Brian took the pages from his grasp and read the words inked in cursive,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You tilt my chin upwards with soft knuckles, and cast your gaze upon my face.  After a moment, “Who did this to you?”  No response comes except for the steady drip of blood from the lip, and the weary, final closing of my eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to scream but I have died.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to tell you,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Apollo! You did this! You cast your eyes upon me and I knew I must be yours.  I am your Icarus that burns in your arms, I will not die because of your ignatius skin, the fall was too much to bear.  Every day I saw you ride across the sky and I knew I would fall.  Every moment I was in the air, soaring closer to your glory, I knew I would fall.  Even now, laying in your embrace I know I have fallen.  Fallen for you, my Apollo.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned the pages and read the next, feeling that in some way it was one half of a story, and he was right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I tilt your chin upwards with soft knuckles, and cast my gaze upon your beautiful face.  After a moment, “Who did this to you?”  No response comes except for the steady drip of blood from the lip, and the weary, final closing of your eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Though your eyes are closed your brow is furrowed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unlike the stories we wish to tell, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your death is not peaceful.  There is no eternal slumber for you, as there is only eternity for me.  Eternity to know I could’ve been yours, to hope that it could’ve been.  I hold your cold body in my embrace and can only wish for you to have soared lower, to know that my love, this cannot be.  Were you destined to soar, or were you destined to die at my hands?  Is it fate or chance that we could only fall apart, that there could be no passion between us?  Even now, with you laying in my arms, I know that I wanted you as my charioteer, my Icarus.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At this moment Laszlo barged through the door, looking a little confused and unfocused, “Hi uh I think I dropped some of my papers, it’s all in cursive have you seen them,” and then they looked up, and saw their two lovers.  Standing so close to each other, eyes pouring over cream covered pages inscribed with their emotions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Laszlo...” Brian began, before Jonny interrupted, “This, this stuff is gorgeous you should help us write music.  Did you always write like this?  Do you have more?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laszlo snatched the papers from Brian’s hands, tearing the edges in the process, “Absolutely not, this is my writing for my eyes.  I just write for catharsis, that’s all,” they defended as they stuffed the pages into their book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words he read whirred through Brian’s mind, they felt so familiar to what he had known, what he experienced.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was he and Jonny Apollo?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laszlo took his opportunity to continue, “I’m not mad, just, just return my stuff to me next time,” and then they turned on their heels and left for their work.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Cleaning Cobwebs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brian and Jonny are instructed to clean the Tailor's Room and pack everything away, it goes as well as you'd expect.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>its a short chapter, but it had to be done.  i'll post the next chapter today as well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Here they stand, in front of a room barely touched for a century.  Carmilla had instructed them that if they weren’t going to use it they should pack it all up until they would.  They had walked up to the door and instinctively went to knock, but stood in silence, unable to go through the barrier.  After a few minutes Ashes walked down the hall and noticed the two standing there, and put their hand between them and the door, and opened it with a curt nod before leaving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now the door stood open and Jonny could see just how still everything was, and just how abrupt their ending was.  Everything was covered in a layer of dust, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything was there</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Cobwebs hung in the corner of shelves stacked with fabric, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they always were friends with the spiders</span>
  </em>
  <span>, lamps always turned low.  Now the lamps were off, still plugged in, but off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched as Brian stepped forward and turned on their favorite lamp, a decorative shade casting the light in various colors.  It was red and cream, both shiny silk painted and embroidered with flowers, much like their jacket, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the one they left with</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  With a slump of the shoulders Brian set down his box full of supplies.  Opening it he took out a cloth and started to wipe the dust off the tops of higher shelves, and the sliding ladder on them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny shook himself out of his thoughts and got to work, slowly wiping down all the counters and surfaces until they were free of dust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he got to the main desk and stopped.  Laszlo rarely ever sat there, but it’s where the sewing machine sat, ready for whenever the fabric was too tough.  A cold cup of half drank tea sat at the center, the tag on the end of the string said, “English Breakfast Tea, 200 degrees F, Steep 3-5 Minutes,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>they must’ve left it before going to the gig</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  At the edges of the desk were photos, photos framed of him and Brian and Laszlo.  Many were of the three doing something random, with notes attached saying something along the lines of, “I know you like photos of you three, -Ivy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He put down his rag and picked one of them up with both hands, careful not to damage it in any way.  It was a photo of them all laying on the loveseat that sat at the back of the room, asleep in each others’ arms.  Laszlo was so peacefully resting, eyes closed and mouth every so gently parted, with their head laying on his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny felt his eyes grow hot as tears rolled down his face, as he whimpered quiet sobs over the photo.  Brian must’ve taken notice because he felt two large arms wrap around him and watched as copper coils fell in a curtain beside his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.  I know.  I miss them too,” Brian whispered into his hair.  With Jonny pressed against his chest, he could feel the bellows that acted as lungs and cooling rise and fall.  He took a breath, following the steady pattern until only silent tears fell.  Brian then took the photo from his hands and placed it on the desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get back to work, shall we?”  Jonny turned around and saw more time had passed than he thought, as Brian had already done most of it without a word, and felt a little guilty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So they finished.  Laying protective coverings over everything, taking the teacup, and leaving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there it will remain untouched.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 150 Years</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>heheheheheheheh.. funeral.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been 150 years since Laszlo's disappearance.  Considering most bi-pedal species don't live that long, Jonny mourns like a funeral, and the Toy Soldier tries to make him feel better.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>150 years.  Today marks the day Laszlo disappeared 150 years ago.  Jonny sits on the counter of the kitchen table, prying open a pomegranate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pomegranates, one part of many strange things about Laszlo.  They were always so calm, and yet reminded Jonny of himself when they cracked and tore into the fruit.  Hands stained red as they picked the seeds from each other.  Their nimble hands handled it with the recklessness never taken in their work.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny thought it was endearing, to see then truly let loose on occasion.  Now there he sat, heavy hands prying away, finding it difficult to get between the cracks, fingers too thick to truly pull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never noticed how stubborn the fruit was, stiff and non-pliant, and Jonny found himself frustrated.  The past couple of weeks had been rough for him, constantly aware of the anniversary, along with the crew arguing amongst themselves more so than usual.  Everyone was getting restless, and a new </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> had appeared on the ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently when Jonny was in jail, Nastya stole a replacement, and it had refused to leave since.  Called itself the Toy Soldier, and fuck, it sure was.  A tall, lean, wooden figure that wore a crisp black and red uniform, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very well tailored</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  It’s movements were stiff and sharp, and talked in a bright tone that left Jonny uneasy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny, for his part, was trying to ignore it, but like the fruit that stained his hands, it was far too stubborn to be ignored.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello Old Chap!”  It announced when it entered the kitchen, seeing Jonny curled into himself on the counter.  It looked at his hands, and tilted its head to the side, “What Do You Have There?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pomegranate,”  Jonny mumbled, wanting to be left alone.  It appeared it was more observant than he had hoped, and pointed a finger at his face, “You Seem To Be In Distress.  Would You Like A Cup Of Tea To Calm Your Nerves?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, “Sure, yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With confirmation it got to work boiling water, grabbing a cup, and placing a tea bag inside.  Once the kettle had reached the right temperature, it grabbed it and poured the water over the tea bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Watching it move with such purpose and focus reminded Jonny of them, and he found his eyes growing hot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It set the cup in front of him, “English Breakfast, Let It Steep For Three To Five Minutes!” then it left.  Jonny looked at the cup in front of him, before grabbing it.  It was warm, hot, scalding even, but holding it in his hands, Jonny felt numb.  He took a sip, burning his entire mouth, and then looked back at it.  A flower pattern was engraved, and it was a deep red, as if chosen to balance the pomegranate that still lay in his other palm, and he set it down, not wanting to contemplate anything anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned to start back on the pomegranate, when it was plucked out of his hand by one of brass.  He looked up to find Brian staring at it, before sighing, “This isn’t ripe yet.”  Then he took it in both his hands, pressed his thumbs to the top, and broke it in half, handing one half to Jonny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sitting down in a chair askew to Jonny’s place on the table, he raised it to eye level, but made eye contact with Jonny, “To Laszlo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With tears in both their eyes, the two choked out, “To Laszlo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later the two of them would be found by Ashes in Jonny’s room, clutching on to the other in sleep.  Brian’s face would be streaked with a teal that had not graced his face in some time, and Jonny’s makeup would be smeared and greyed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. War Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jonny goes off to fight in the moon war and finds himself alongside two soldiers, as well as TS.  A 300 year old song arises that he remembers all too well.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In another part of the series i'm gonna expand upon the moon war, (mostly from Tim's perspective) but for now have a glimpse of moon war life.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eventually 200 year passed without Laszlo, and Jonny went off to fight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pain had not passed in their absence, but it had dulled, and he hoped that mindless violence would make him forget the ache in his heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Standing in the line with the Toy Soldier, he met Tim and Bertie.  Tim had dark and curly hair, but it fell to the same length as Laszlo’s once did, and Jonny couldn’t help but frown slightly whenever he saw him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The four of them ended up in the same division, the couple and Jonny and TS.  It helped Jonny forget his internal woes, watching the war rage on.  He would throw himself into battle without a care, nothing he couldn’t come back from, but Tim and Bertie didn’t know that.  Every time a bullet passed through his skin, every gash and cut that bled crimson, the two of them were there to patch him up.  Jonny tried his damndest not to care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But despite his best efforts, he fell in love once again.  He often found himself lying in their arms as they spoke to one another, laughing at night between battles.  One night however, when the Toy Soldier had left for the other side, Tim and Bertie started bantering, something about old war songs they used to listen to, from 300 years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As clear as the stars in space, they began to sing,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered, only remembered,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done;</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thus would we pass from this earth and its toiling,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did the other lines go? The one before these,” Tim asked.  Jonny, once sitting in Bertie’s lap, and at that point had moved to lay on his cot, and answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Faded away like the stars in the morning,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Losing their light in the glorious sun</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thus would we pass from this earth and its toiling,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny watched as he continued singing, the two lovers got up and clasped hands, and started waltzing to the melody.  Had Laszlo been from Earth?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered, only remembered,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done;</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thus would we pass from this earth and its toiling,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their eyes closed in peace as they pressed their foreheads together, and Jonny just kept singing, watching them in the dim light of the oil lamp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Horses and men, plowshares and traces,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The line on the land and the paths of the sun.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Season by season we mark nature's graces.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered, only remembered,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered for what we have done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Season by season, we mark natures graces,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only remembered, for what we have done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s voice started breaking on the last few verses, and Tim and Bertie looked over to see him with eyes and face wet with tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jonny,” Tim called, he looked up at him, “Are you alright?”  Focusing on his hair and voice he could imagine it was Laszlo calling to him, asking if he was okay, but the dirt of the moon was not the halls of the Aurora, and Bertie placed a hand on his shoulder, “You look pretty upset over this song, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He refused to meet his eyes, “I knew someone who would listen to this song a lot,” his voice broke into more mumbled tears, “they died.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the lovers’ faces softened even further, and Bertie pulled him into a hug, petting his hair.  Jonny let his hands clutch his uniform as he cried into his chest, sobbing over his lost love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your singing is beautiful,”  one of them whispered, but he wasn’t listening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three or four years later Bertie would be long dead, and Jonny would wake up on the Aurora once again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tim?” he called as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not realizing where he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who is Tim?” he heard Carmilla call from across the room, “You didn’t fall for another mortal in your time off at war, did you?”  Jonny looked up at her with guilt in his eyes, “I did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed, and looked out at the debris of the moon from beyond the window, and noticed a small life pod amongst it, “We can go check to see who is in the life pod, but if it’s not whoever Tim is I’m not going to look for him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny nodded and trailed behind her as she strode towards the docking bay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They did find Tim.  Half dead and with gore where his eyes once were, but still breathing.  He was banned from Carmilla’s lab as she and Nastya mechanized him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Watching Tim stumble out of the lab hours after his first death was terrifying, his eyes wrapped in bandages and hands outstretched.  Jonny ran up and caught him, “It’s okay, you’re here, you’re alive.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Tim’s hand reached down to grab his face, “Jonny?  Where is here?”  He sounded so lost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re on the starship Aurora, you’re stuck with me for all time… You’re immortal now.”  Jonny confessed, then watched as Tim’s face contorted into shock and despair, “And Bertie?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Bertie’s not here.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Silk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Marius joins the crew and wants to patch some of his clothes, and finds the Tailor's Room.  Jonny is not happy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i think they didn't have silk on New Texas and the others just never really had it either.  Laszlo is a classy fucker and definitely worked with and wore silk.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>More centuries passed, and the crew gained two new members, Raphaella La Cognizi and “Doctor Baron” Marius Von Raum.  The two of them were eccentric and a little more than eclectic, but no more so than the rest of the crew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both were curious, but one happened to be curious about the wrong things.  He called himself a psychologist, always trying to pick at everyone’s brains.  Jonny was never one to care for anything to do with the brain, but the problem was that Marius, (much to Jonny’s dismay), was good at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every query and question got uncomfortably close to feelings long since buried six feet underground on some random planet, and killing the bastard just made him psychoanalyze even more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you say you hold some kind of remorse towards someone long gone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like who?”  Jonny responded sardonically, trying to cover his feelings with annoyance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well in your introduction to your song, your backstory that is, you mention your mother was a tailor, does that have anything to do with the lock on that part of the ship?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rage bubbled in Jonny’s chest, around his ever-ticking heart, “It doesn’t actually, I just don’t use that room anymore and I’m the only one who would.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see.  Well I was going to repair the sleeve of one of my jackets, you wouldn’t mind me going in, would you?”  At this point Marius was just curious to see his response, and Jonny could tell.  If we wanted these conversations to stop, he had to be cool about this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go right ahead,” he said quickly, trying to mask that his voice was about to break, “though I warn you there are dust coverings everywhere, cobwebs all around, hasn’t been touched for centuries.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny would deny any such accusations that stated he was lurking or stalking or even looming.  The true, practical truth was that he was simply walking around one part of the ship with no purpose or intention.  The fact that he would glare daggers at Marius any time he as much as dared to look at the Tailor’s Room was completely unrelated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Marius had finally decided to enter, it took all of Jonny’s will to not be bothered.  The door opened and he watched as Marius closed the door.  He heard a lamp click on, and the rustling of the dust covers being moved from surfaces, then he heard Marius call, “Jonny I know you’re still there, so I have a question.  Why so.... luxurious?  Doesn’t quite fit your style if you ask me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not my room,” he scoffed, “don’t ask me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pause, “Then who’s room is it?  I’d love to meet someone with taste for once, besides Ashes.  Actually, this could be Ashes’s work, did they used to be a tailor?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What a stupid fucking question Marius, does Ashes seem like the person to sew in their spare time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened in response, and Marius leaned against the frame, “They don’t, but then again, neither do you, and you seem pretty attached to this room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not!”  Jonny raised his voice, and stormed past Marius and into the room.  He went over to the desk and took the photos in his arms,  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marius doesn’t get to know them.  He will not make them into some therapy session.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Jonny could properly make it back out, Marius grabbed him with his metal arm, completely stopping him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’re going to be pissy, at least tell me why.  What are those photos of?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny tried to get out of his grip once more, before sighing and clutching the photos tighter to his chest, “Me and the person who had this room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This piqued Marius’s curiosity, he never gets anything out of Jonny, “And who were they?  Can I see?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny turned his body as best as he could, shielding them from Marius’s sight, “Absolutely not, you don’t get to know them, that’s all you’re getting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, that’s fine, but stay with me?  It seems like you miss being in here, and it’s pretty comfy, you could take a nap if you wanted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny looked past Marius and into the room again, he did miss it, and he’s tired.  Wordlessly, he walked into the room and to the loveseat, and placed the photos underneath it.  He curled onto the small couch and grabbed the pillow, clinging to the hope that it would smell like them.  Digging his face into it, he discovered that it didn’t, I guess that’s what 700 years will do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marius nodded and walked in and crouched down next to the fabric shelves.  Poking through, he took out a teal fabric with a nice sheen to it, “Jonny?” he addressed him, “Is this silk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned over to look at him properly, and yes, it is silk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny was laying against Laszlo as they quietly stitched pieces together.  He watched as the needle was carefully threaded through a fabric he had never seen before.  It was almost shiny, and moved as languidly as water, and he reached out to touch it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Jonny?”  Laszlo asked, clearly amused by him batting the fabric like a curious cat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is this shit?”  Jonny questioned, never taking his eyes off it as he ran it between his thumb and index finger.  Laszlo set it in their lap, needle set in a small pincushion, “You’re telling me you’ve never seen silk before?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well obviously not,”  Jonny grumbled as he laid on their thigh, “It’s nice though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hand carded through his hair, “That’s good to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two weeks later Jonny found a brown paper package sitting on his bed.  He opened it up to have a cream colored silk shirt, a finely made blouse.  Putting it on and tucking it in, he realized it fit him perfectly, sleeves closing with a clasp around his wrist, and a collar that laced up to his neck.  Of course, he loosened the thin cording, leaving it open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt two arms wrap around him, and his collar tickled as Laszlo kissed him there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It looks like you like it.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Shared Clothes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tim wears a similar outfit to one Laszlo donned almost a thousand years ago.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>second to last chapter, short and sweet.  the next will be even shorter so eh.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tim walked into the common room, where Jonny and Brian had been sitting.   He was wearing one of Jonny’s shirts, rolled up to his elbows, with slacks and suspenders that accentuated his long legs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them stared at him, “Uh, he/him today.  Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brian shook himself out of his head, “Yeah we’re fine, just reminded of something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brian and Jonny were laying on the biggest couch in the common room, discussing the planet they were landing on tonight for a show.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently it was very habitable, with people that resembled and worked very closely to humans.  Jonny was about to snark something when Laszlo strode into the common room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their hair was tied back into a long friend braid, obviously done by Nastya, though two long strands were taken out, and framed their face alongside their glasses.  One hand gripped their cane, while the other fidgeted with the strap of their suspenders, which were attached to deep burgundy slacks.  Their shirt however, was not their shirt, they were wearing one of Jonny’s, a lightly colored linen shirt with dark vines embroidered on the collar.  The sleeves were cuffed to their elbows, showing their strong forearms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, doll,”  Jonny addressed them, breathless, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’d never seen them in any of his clothes before</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “You look… nice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They looked down at themself, “Oh!  Oh uh, thank you.  Both of you look splendid,” they said as they walked over and placed a kiss to both of their lover’s cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tonight we’re going to be going to a planet for a show, will you be there love?”  Brian asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They nodded, “Of course, I’ve never been to another planet before, quite exciting if you ask me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It dawned on the two of them that space travel is not as common as they thought.  The crew of the Aurora had been traveling from planet to planet for centuries now, though Laszlo wasn’t around for any of that.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just as this was the first time for them to don their lover’s clothes, it’ll be the first time for them to land on a planet, and it’ll be their last.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The City</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>this just summarizes Jonny's and Brian's time in The City.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here's the last chapter of this part :-).  the next part is an interlude (which i'll also publish today) and then tomorrow do y'all want a few chapters about tim or part 3?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The crew of The Aurora had traveled for thousands of years.  They watched love stories end in tragedy, the most notable being during King Cole’s War and in The City.  Both were loves torn from each other too soon, with one alive to grieve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jonny spent his time during those years fighting and killing and dying.  In The City he didn’t even don a moniker, only a nameless figure that tore through the lower levels, though eventually he was whispered to be named Erinyes.  When he got news that Tim had gone by the name Persephone and her mother had hired a personal tailor, he tore through the people he killed with such fervor that he couldn’t remember a single face he passed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brian spent his time as an oracle.  He spent much time along mortals, but distanced himself from them, only giving his voice to prophecies.  Delphi, the people called him.  Every person who came to him sought glory or love, two things he knew that they would never get in their short lives.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>